


You Gave Me Butterflies (You Had Me at Hello)

by stylesparties



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Harry is a sweetheart, Just Roll With It, Kid Fic, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, it's fine, louis is basically a thirteen year old girl, sorry that i'm not sorry at all, this is literally just 4k of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-08 22:45:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1958928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stylesparties/pseuds/stylesparties
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been seven years since his last relationship, five years since his last date. Louis hasn't had a single crush since adopting his daughter, doesn’t think he’d even know how to ask out a cute boy now. Not that he wants to ask Emma’s school teacher out for a drink or anything – that would be unprofessional. But surely he’s allowed to think Emma’s school teacher is super fit, right?</p>
<p>[ or the one where Louis is a single father and also a struggling writer and Harry is his daughter's kindergarten teacher and maybe also Louis' muse ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Gave Me Butterflies (You Had Me at Hello)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thetommo1d](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetommo1d/gifts).



> THIS IS MY FIRST FIC FOR THE ONE DIRECTION FANDOM. I'm really excited about it, but also very nervous. YOU KNOW. EVERYONE IN THIS FANDOM IS SO TALENTED.
> 
> thetommo1d - all of your prompts were amazing, but I've always wanted to write kidfic, so here it is. I really, really hope you enjoy it. ♥
> 
> I want to say thank you to my irl best friend and beta, Jen. She is not a part of the fandom, nor does she even like One Direction. But she did research and helped me so much with this fic anyways. I love love love you, Jen. This fic would not even be finished without you. 
> 
> Lastly, the title comes from "You Had Me at Hello" by A Day To Remember, which I pretty much listened to on repeat while writing this.

Louis Tomlinson is not a nervous person. He’s not anxious. He’s not emotional. In fact, all things considered, Louis likes to think he is a very collected individual. (Okay, so maybe sometimes he makes impulsive decisions, but that’s beside the point.)

Therefore, nothing can really explain the intense meltdown he’s experiencing this morning. He’s been awake since two, unable to sleep due to an uneasiness in his stomach. When his alarm went off at six, he’d rolled out of bed, showered, shaved, and attempted to style his hair out of his face. After, he spent a solid hour trying to pick out an outfit that made him look like a semi-respectable member of society. In the end, he ended up pulling on a plain white t-shirt and a pair of tight black jeans. 

If someone had told twenty-three-year-old-Louis-Tomlinson that in five years, he’d be panicking over taking his daughter to her first day of kindergarten, Louis would have laughed in their face (and probably spit in their drink for good measure). However, Louis has since learned that life is unpredictable, at best. When his sister had gotten pregnant at the fragile age of sixteen, Louis had threatened to fly back to England and break the boy’s nose. When his sister cried because she couldn’t and didn’t want to take care of the baby, Louis had swooped in without a second thought. 

The adoption process was lengthy and costly, and Louis probably should have thought more about how adopting a baby would affect his life, but he had Zayn along to help him. It was a struggle, even with Louis’ experience with his sisters. Emma’s fiercely independent, and incredibly curious, and convinced she’s a princess. She’s a good kid; Louis can’t really imagine his life without her. (And hey, neither of them have died from accidental food poisoning, so Louis considers his parenting skills a success). 

 

Louis’ knuckles are white on the steering wheel as he drives her to school. He feels kind of sweaty, and his heart’s hammering in his chest as they approach the building. 

“Dad, are you okay?” Emma calls from the back seat, looking concerned. 

Louis smiles at her in the rearview mirror, forcing himself to take a deep breath. “’Course, love. You excited for your first day?” Emma smiles wide and nods frantically. 

“It’s gonna be awesome!” She cries from wear she sits, pumping her fist up in the air. Louis laughs out loud at that, feeling slightly better at his daughter’s enthusiasm. Emma’s a smart kid, sometimes loud, and outgoing. Really, it’s not Emma he’s worried about. It’s the other kids – kids can be vicious. 

When they pull into the school yard, Louis unbuckles Emma from her car seat, lifting her out of the car and spinning her around. She’s practically shaking with excitement when he sets her on the ground, bouncing up and down on her toes, and grinning from ear to ear. Louis can’t help the fond smile that spreads over his face. “Gonna give your old man a hug before I go?” He asks with a grin. Emma wraps her arms around Louis’ waist and squeezes tightly. As he hugs the girl back, he bends down to place a smacking kiss on her forehead.

Emma backs away from him, sputtering and wiping at her face. She’s scowling at him, as she turns and walks towards the school doors. “Be good!” He calls after her. She turns and waves to him one last time before disappearing among the throng of kids gathered. Louis takes a deep breath and resists the urge to cry. 

So Louis goes to work. It’s a short drive to Zayn’s record shop in downtown Seattle. One Direction is small, nestled among some small cafes and hipster boutiques, but popular. (Louis is still determined the shop’s popularity is due to Zayn’s godly looks and thick accent – Zayn disagrees.) It’s easy rent money, shelving some CDs and sorting through old vinyl reads. Plus, he gets to work with his best friend, who doesn’t care if Louis spends half the day furiously scribbling down plotlines and rubbish poems and ideas for stories. 

(Zayn doesn’t mention the fact that all of Louis’ ideas are shit or that they all end up in the rubbish bin at the end of the day. He doesn’t comment on Louis’ lack of inspiration. He doesn’t even mention the fact that Louis hasn’t even finished a story since they dropped out of uni and moved to Seattle. He really is Louis’ best friend.) 

Even if his writing career could pay the bills, Louis still thinks he’d help around the shop. 

The bell above the door jingles as Louis walks in. Zayn’s got his feet propped up on the counter by the register, sketchbook in hand. He waves at Louis, “Where’s Em?” 

“First day of school, remember?” Louis replies, trying not to look too depressed.

Zayn nods. “Oh, yeah. Gonna miss seein’ her.” Louis nods in agreement, smiling sadly. Louis could never afford daycare, so he used to bring Emma with him on the days he worked. There was a small break room in the back, where she could watch movies and color until it was time to pack up and return home. There were numerous coloring pages taped up among the posters in the shop, courtesy of Emma. 

“Well, the stack of albums right there needs sorted,” Zayn says nodding towards a small stack on the table. “Maybe it’ll take your mind of it.”

And, bless Zayn, but shelving CDs is not really he’d planned to take his mind off of leaving his daughter in a stranger’s custody for eight hours (but really, it’s better than nothing). Louis groans anyways. “You’ve just been sitting around on your arse; why haven’t you done it?” He asks.

“What do you think I pay you for?” Zayn asks with a fond smile, without even looking up from his sketchbook. Louis sighs dramatically, but gets to work anyways. The faster the minutes go by, the faster he can pick his daughter up. 

The bad thing about working at a music store is that mornings are really, really slow. Once he’s sorted the CDs, there’s literally nothing to do until a customer arrives. He’s got five lives left on Candy Crush, so he settles in for at least an hour of sub-par gaming. 

Louis really tries to not to count down the minutes until two o’clock, but he finds himself glancing at the clock every ten minute anyways. It’s only after he spilled his tea on Zayn’s sketchbook, knocked over two displays of CDs, and shortchanged five customers that Zayn sends him home early. “You’re driving me nuts,” was all he had said, gesturing towards the door. 

 

Louis parks when he arrives at Emma’s school. There are kids everywhere, still buzzed from the excitement of the first day of school, waiting for their bus or their parents to pick them up. He wanders through the crowd of students, parents, and teachers before he spots a familiar mop of unruly light brown hair and a Frozen backpack. 

Emma’s sitting next to an unfamiliar man on a bench, in the middle of what appears to be a very intense conversation (well, as intense as a five year old can be). She’s gesturing wildly in the air with her hands and the man next to her is giving her an amused smile. 

“-and that’s why maybe you shouldn’t trust princes right away because Hans was so mean to Anna, and she almost died because he was-“ 

“Sorry, it’s her favorite movie.” Louis apologizes, smiling at Emma and interrupting her monologue. (No doubt she’s been talking the man’s ear off for a good ten minutes – it really is her favorite movie.) 

“Daddy!” Emma cries, jumping up and wrapping her arms around Louis’ waist. 

“I can see that. She’s very passionate about it.” The man laughs and stands too. And wow, Louis has to remember to breathe for a second, because the man standing in front of him is stunning. He’s much taller than Louis initially expected, with a mop of curls that have been tied away from his face with a purple scarf that matches his purple cable knit sweater. His eyes are the color of a forest after it rains with flecks of gold, and his jaw looks like it was cut from a marble statue. 

Louis feels a bit faint. (He also may want to write sonnets about the man’s curls and honey-smooth-voice, but that’s beside the point, really.)

He realizes that he’s staring at the man in front of him as the silence stretches out between them. Frantic to take back control of the situation before he makes an even bigger fool of himself, he clears his throat and extends his hand, “Louis Tomlinson. Emma’s dad… which I’m sure you’ve gathered,” He says nodding towards the girl wrapped around his waist. Smooth. 

The man smiles, and he has perfect teeth (of course he does) and dimples that Louis very badly wants to poke. He shakes Louis’ hand, “Harry Styles. I’m Emma’s teacher.” 

“Mr. Styles is awesome, Dad,” Emma cries from where she’s still attached to Louis’ hip. 

The man – Harry, Louis corrects himself – grins down at her. “I’m sure your dad is awesome, too, right?” Emma nods. 

“He’s a writer,” Emma says proudly, puffing up her little chest. “He writes me my very own bedtime stories, and he listens to Frozen in the car with me and-” Emma pauses and wiggles a finger at Harry in a ‘come here’ notion, like she’s about to share some big secret. 

Harry leans down into Emma’s space. “He lets me eat cereal for dinner once a week,” Emma whispers, well tries to whisper. She still hasn’t really learned volume control yet. 

Harry gasps, like it’s the most exciting news he’s heard today. “I think you’d better keep him, then,” he says, throwing a smirk in Louis’ direction.

Emma shrugs, “He can’t cook, so mostly we just eat Hot Pockets and-“

“That’s enough,” Louis starts, feeling a blush start to creep up into his cheeks. Harry is laughing now looking thoroughly charmed, and Louis is mortified. “It was lovely to meet you, Mr. Styles,” Louis says, grabbing Emma’s hand in his own. She looks confused, glancing between Harry and Louis, but – thankfully – stays silent. 

“It was nice to meet you, too,” Harry responds, smiling brightly at Louis, eyes curving up into little half-moons. “Hopefully I’ll see you around?” And Louis doesn’t really know what to do with that. It’s been a long time since a pretty boy with pretty eyes smiled at him like that, so he just nods and tugs on Emma’s hand.

“Bye, Mr. Styles!” Emma hollers enthusiastically as they walk away, waving frantically with her free hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

 

Mr. Styles is all Emma talks about on the ride home, and at dinner, and at bedtime. 

“Dad, Mr. Styles says we’re going to learn about dinosaurs this year. We’re going to go to a museum and look at bones.”

“Dad, Mr. Styles says there’s a language for people who can’t hear!”

“Dad, Mr. Styles read us Harry Potter! We get to read a little bit of it every day!”

“Dad, Mr. Styles has a fish named Dory, and we all get to take turns feeding it!”

“Dad, Mr. Styles knows how to count to one million!”

After tucking Emma into bed and kissing her goodnight, Louis pads softly to bed himself. He spends some time scrolling through twitter. He sees a picture of a seal hugging a penguin that he knows Emma will like, and so he adds it to his favorites for later. 

It’s a bit unnerving to hear his daughter talk so enthusiastically about someone else. It’s just been Emma and Louis (with the occasional guest appearance from Zayn) for five years. Louis refuses to feel threatened by a school teacher. Especially a kindergarten teacher. Especially since he’s gorgeous. 

That thought is alarming to Louis. It’s been seven years since his last relationship, five years since his last date. Louis doesn’t think he’s had a single crush since adopting his daughter. Raising Emma as a single parent was a full-time job – one that didn’t allow for dating or even just nights spent at a bar. Louis doesn’t think he’d even know how to ask out a cute boy now.

Not that he wants to ask Emma’s school teacher out for a drink or anything – that would be unprofessional. But surely he’s allowed to think Emma’s school teacher is super fit, right? Louis sighs and drags a hand over his face, feeling like a creep. As he turns his bedside lamp out and lies down for the night, he wills himself not to think about Harry as he falls asleep. 

When he wakes up he tries to forget that he dreamed about forest-green eyes and cotton candy lips.

 

The next day when Louis picks up Emma, he accidentally sneaks up on Harry. 

When Louis pulls into the parking lot, he sees a familiar mop of curly hair in the crowd. It’s only a hunch, but he’s guessing he will find Emma nearby, so he walks towards the teacher. His hair is tied back again today, and the green of his scarf matches the color of his eyes. He’s also holding a steaming mug and observing an intense game of “Duck-Duck Goose”. Sure enough, Emma is sitting among the circle of children, pigtails bouncing as she laughs along with them. 

“Hi,” Louis says, coming to stand beside the other man.

“Oops,” Harry startles at Louis presence, sloshing liquid over the side of his mug and onto his hands. “Shit,” He murmurs, shaking his hand. 

Louis laughs a bit, “Sorry to sneak up on you, Mr. Styles.”

“Call me Harry, I insist. And it’s my fault,” Harry laughs, turning his attention to Louis. “I think I’m as invested in the game as they are,” he says, nodding towards the children.

They fall into a comfortable silence, watching the kids chase each other around and laugh happily. Louis rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet – he’s never been one for standing still. When Emma’s chosen, Louis and Harry both smiling brightly as she sprints around the circle, trying to catch the boy who tagged her. 

Louis chances a glance toward Harry. “How is she?” He asks, softly. “In class, I mean. She’s alright?” He tries to keep the worry out of his voice. Despite Emma’s lingering excitement, Louis still worries that his failures as a parent will affect her social and academic life. 

“She’s doing great,” Harry responds, nodding his head. He sounds genuine, which eases Louis’ tension. “She’s really bright; she’s really social. Emma’s a delight to have in class.” He gives Louis a small smile. “You and her mother must be very proud.”

And that stops Louis for a minute. He must be looking at Harry like he’s crazy because the man immediately backtracks.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume,” Harry says with wide eyes, “Lots of couples are divorced, or, um, separated, you know, statistics show…”

Louis shakes his head, laughing softly to himself. (Harry is rather cute when he’s panicky, Louis notes in the back of his mind.) Harry stops rambling, furrowing his eyebrows and looking completely lost. 

“Emma’s adopted,” Louis explains. 

“Oh,” Harry says. “Wow, I was wrong.”

“My sister, she was really young and couldn’t take care of her… so I flew back to the UK, signed some papers, and brought Em home,” Louis shrugs and stares at his hands as his says it, avoiding eye contact with Harry. He takes a deep breath. “So, she’s adopted, but she’s still my daughter.” He says it firmly. He’s always thought of Emma as his daughter; Louis raised her on his own – adoption papers didn’t matter. 

When he chances a look at Harry, he’s staring at him with wide eyes. His mouth is parted a bit. “That’s,” Harry pauses, kind of tilts his head to the side as he studies Louis, “That’s really brave.” There’s so much admiration in his voice and his stare is so intent that it’s making Louis squirm.

“Yeah,” Louis says lamely, looking back down at his hands. 

 

They fall into a routine. 

Every morning, Louis drops Emma off at school (since Harry’s reassurance, things have gotten significantly easier.) His spends less and less time shelving CDs at One Direction, and he spends more time writing and talking to Zayn about Harry’s smile until it’s two o’clock. Then he’s out the door with a wave and a “see you tomorrow.” 

Every afternoon, when Louis picks Emma up from school, she’s sitting on – or near – the same bench with Mr. Styles. Sometimes there are other children sitting with them, who have joined in the conversation. One time, Louis interrupted a very intense game of tag to take Emma home. 

Every afternoon, he talks to Harry. They strike up some sort of friendship, sharing funny pictures they find on Twitter and stories about work. Louis always asks if Emma’s behaved herself and what she learned that day. Harry always lights up while he explains his lesson plans, and Louis can help but feel charmed. Harry always asks about Louis’ writing, if there’s anything he can read, and Louis always blushes and changes the subject.

Every day, Louis feels dizzy from the alarming brightness of Harry’s smile. Every day, Louis refuses to admit that the characters in his story have green eyes and curly hair. He refuses to admit he’s writing poems about Harry’s smile. He refuses to acknowledge Zayn’s knowing glances.

Every night, after he tucks Emma in, Louis tries not think about the way Harry stands with his feet pointing towards each other, or the way Emma laughs at his knock-knock jokes, or how warm Harry’s hand is when he shakes it before leaving.

 

It’s a chilly Friday afternoon in October when Louis finds Emma sitting on the same bench as always, with Harry sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of her. There’s no scarf in his hair today, curls spread haphazardly around his face. Emma’s got her hands buried in Harry’s unruly locks, a look of fierce determination on her face. 

“Hi, love. Y’alright?” Louis asks in confusion as he approaches, not sure whether to feel embarrassed or fond at his daughter’s antics.

Emma startles from where she’s sitting, looking up at Louis briefly before shrugging nonchalantly. “Yeah. Mr. Styles said I could play with his hair while I waited for you to pick me up.” 

From where he’s standing, Louis can now see various glittery hair barrettes scattered throughout Harry’s curls. They’re Emma’s favorite hair accessories – a Christmas gift from Louis’ mum. (“They’re from all the way across the ocean, Dad, how cool is that?” Emma had exclaimed.) Louis is vaguely impressed that she managed to smuggle them out of the house without him noticing. 

“Hey, Mr. Tomlinson,” Harry’s smiling lazily up at Louis from where he sits on the ground, like it’s not at all annoying to have a small child pulling at your scalp. His hair looks fluffy and soft and springy, and Louis resists the urge to card his own hands through it. Harry’s wearing sunglasses today, so Louis can’t see his eyes, but his dimples are just as devastating as they were the day before (and the day before that, and the day before that.)

Emma untangles her hands from Harry’s hair, giving it a serious look. She tugs at one barrette and fixes it back into place before looking up at Louis with wide eyes. “How does it look?” She asks, and Louis knows yearning for approval. 

Louis exchanges a knowing look with Harry, who’s still grinning. “Looks like you’ve turned Mr. Styles right into a Disney princess.” Louis says, beaming at his daughter. Emma looks delighted, giggling and wiggling around where she’s seated. 

“He looks lovely,” Louis says softly, as an afterthought, catching Harry’s eye. 

Harry smirks, a flash of white teeth. “I bet you say that to all the boys.” 

Louis laughs and says, “Only the pretty ones.” 

Time temporarily stops. Harry seems caught off guard, a light flush spreading across his cheeks. Louis opens his mouth to apologize, and Harry opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but then shuts it. Louis is transfixed with the way the pink color on Harry’s cheeks contrasts with the color of his skin. They’re staring at each other, and the moment seems to drag on and on and –

“Picture! Picture!” Emma cries, startling Louis out of his stupor. She’s tugging at his t-shirt. “Daddy, take a picture of me and Mr. Styles,” 

Louis glances toward Harry briefly, before readjusting his focus to his daughter. “Love, I’m sure Mr. Styles has things to do…” 

“I don’t mind,” Harry says quietly from where he’s sitting, staring determinedly at Louis.

“It’s alright, you really don’t have to…” Louis backtracks, eager now to leave. He wants to put as much distance between himself and Harry as he can so he can stomp out this stupid crush before it gets him into more trouble.

“I really don’t mind,” Harry insists. Emma cheers, throwing her arms around Louis’ waist in a hug.

As Louis fishes his phone out of his back pocket, Emma scrambles back up onto the bench behind Harry. She throws her arms around his neck, settling her chin atop Harry’s mess of curls and positively beams. Harry smiles up at the camera through his lashes, all perfect teeth and bright eyes. Louis feels like an idiot. His daughter is absolutely adorable and Harry’s absolutely breathtaking – and he doesn’t know where to look. He snaps a few pictures of the both of them, before zooming in and taking a few of Harry.

“I wanna see!” Emma cries as soon as Louis’ finished. He pulls up one of the pictures, showing it to Emma – who squeals and insists on showing Harry as well, who’s pulling clips out of his hair and handing them back to Emma. 

“You should send that to me,” Harry says with a grin.

Louis’ brain momentarily short circuits. He looks at the picture displayed on his phone, then up at Harry’s green eyes, then back at his phone. He can feel the look of confusion on his face.

Thankfully, Harry takes pity on him. “Here,” he says, taking Louis’ phone out of his hand, “Let me give you my number.” 

Louis’ heart is pumping erratically in his chest, and his brain still isn’t functioning, and there are butterflies fucking swarming in his stomach as he watches Harry punch his number into his phone. When he hands it back, Louis still hasn’t moved. Harry just smiles his million-watt smile, waves, and says, “See you tomorrow, Emma. Bye, Louis.”

 

Before they pull out of the car park to head home, Louis sends Harry the picture of him and Emma with the message, “Thank you for everything.” He tacks on a smiley face emoji for good measure.

 

That night, after Louis tucks Emma into bed, he settles in to watch some television and scroll mindlessly through twitter. As he unlocks his phone, he notices the background is different. It’s been changed from a picture of Zayn’s cat, Tiger, to one of the close up shots Louis had taken of Harry that afternoon. 

Emma really is smart, Louis thinks fondly, and she’s growing up to be quite like her father. 

Opening his contacts, Louis sees that she’s also changed Harry’s name from “Harry Styles” to “Harry Styles” followed by eight heart emojis. He looks at the little hearts on the screen, and before he can stop himself, he calls Harry.

“Hello?” He hears Harry ask from the other end, voice smooth and slow even over the phone.

Louis’ voice is caught in his throat. He can’t believe he’s called Harry. He doesn’t even know what to say.

“Lou?” He hears Harry ask in confusion, “You there?”  
“Yeah,” Louis answers, voice cracking. He winces, covering his eyes with his hands. “Yeah, sorry. Got distracted for a moment.”

There’s a pause. 

“Did you need something?” Harry asks, voice still laced with confusion.

“I just want to, um,” Louis’ pauses, closes his eyes, and summons a deep breath. “You had me at hello. / I’ve never seen a smile that could light the room like yours. / It’s simply radiant, I feel more with every day that goes by. / I watch the clock to make my timing just right. / Would it be okay? Would it be okay if I took your breath away?”

There’s another long pauses; Louis listens to Harry breathing on the other line.

“Did you write that?” He asks softly. 

“Yeah,” Louis replies. 

“For me?” Harry asks.

“Yeah,” Louis says again. And Louis is not a nervous guy, but his heart is racing. “And I was wondering, if you’re not busy, if you’d like to go for tea – or coffee, or something this weekend?” It all comes out in a rush. 

Harry laughs, loud and happy. “Of course. Of course. I've only been trying to get your number for two months. Thought you were never going to make a move,” He teases, and Louis can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Don’t be a twat,” Louis laughs. The jackhammer in his heart is starting to subside into a pleasant thrum. 

Harry gasps and feigns hurt, and they both laugh. 

“It’s late,” Harry starts. “I should go to bed, I’ve got kids to take care of tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Louis says. “”Course, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Louis.” Harry says. “For the record, I know I’m not poetic or anything, but I love your smile, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> The poem Louis recites to Harry is taken from "You Had Me at Hello" by A Day to Remember as well.
> 
> The end was rushed. I know. I'm so sorry.


End file.
